Bananapants: A Bonkers Romantic Comedy

“But our love it was stronger by far than the love

Of those who were older than we —

Of many far wiser than we —

And neither the angels in Heaven above

Nor the demons down under the sea

Can ever dissever my soul from the soul

Of the beautiful Annabel Lee.”

— Edgar Allan Poe, Annabel Lee

Ileaned back to examine Ava, and her eyes opened as soon as we stopped kissing, round and watchful. I wouldn’t call her scared, per se. More like extremely anxious.

That wasn’t going to work. If she was going to enjoy herself, she needed to relax. But telling someone who’s anxious, “Hey, relax” was like adding lighter fluid to a fire you wanted to extinguish.

What I needed to do was get us both naked as soon as possible. Slowly peeling off her clothes would only increase anticipation, and her anticipation was flavored with unease instead of excitement. Then we’d take our time. Go slow. Take breaks if she needed. Put our clothes back on if she needed. Basically, whatever she needed.

“I’m going to take this off.” I reached for the bottom of her T-shirt and paused, giving her time to react. “Can you help me with your jeans?”

She nodded eagerly and I took note. She seemed to like having a task. Good to know.

Carefully, I pulled her shirt over her head, widening the neck and positioning my hands so it didn’t tug at her hair or get caught on her chin. Then I stepped back, giving her space to remove her jeans and keeping my eyes on hers, though my eyes wanted to wander. Ava’s hands held a light tremor, but she made quick work of taking off her pants, stomping and stepping on them to pull her legs completely out rather than bending to finish the job.

Reaching for her hand, I entwined our fingers and walked backward toward her bedroom. I’d scoped out the apartment earlier, memorizing the layout, thus leading while holding her gaze was no problem. Well, navigating the apartment was no problem, but holding her gaze proved difficult since my attention wanted to stray. It didn’t. I didn’t let it.

She followed, walking forward, her free arm wrapped around her bare midriff, betraying her self-consciousness. I wondered if this was the most skin she’d ever shown to a man while being alone with him. It seemed likely. Resolve and determination coursed through me, and a fierce sort of protectiveness.

“Close the door,” I instructed once we were both inside her room. I knew Grace was staying at their parents’ house, but on the off chance her sister arrived home unexpectedly, better to have the door closed.

She did, only looking away from me for a moment. The door shut, and she nibbled on her bottom lip.

I’d played this moment out in my head too many times, what I would do if I had her, what I would do if she gave herself to me. Long before her proposition in my car last night, this moment was years in the making.

But those fantasies were before I’d realized the extent of Ava’s inexperience and her anxiety. I would still make this happen today, right now, as long as she continued to consent. But this wasn’t going to resemble any of those earlier fantasies.

As an example, I’d never been nervous and she’d never been anxious.

Right now? I was nervous. This was a big deal for her and I didn’t want to let her down. Maybe she didn’t want her first time to be a big deal, but it was. By her own admission, she’d built this up in her head, avoided it until it became something to fear. I knew all about that.

Releasing her hand, I unzipped my jeans and her eyes flared, dropping to where I made efficient work of removing them along with my boxers and socks. I made sure to toss the jeans on the bed so I could easily reach the condoms later. Already hard, I gave her time to simply look, hoping she’d like what she saw. Arm still wrapped around her ribs, she slowly leaned back against the door, her lashes wavering as her eyes moved over my body.

But then she blinked, her stare sharpening, her eyebrows pulling together. She stepped forward. Her hand lifted and I tensed, bracing myself. Ava bypassed the spot I thought she’d touch and instead rested her fingertips on my hip, just below the pale-brown-colored bandage I’d placed over my stitches.

“What’s this?”

“A cut.” Her light touch tickled. I captured her fingers. “I have another one on my arm.”

“From Friday,” she guessed. Ava searched for and found the second bandage on my arm, but then must’ve noticed the scar on my shoulder. It was jagged and ugly. “What’s that?”

“A scar.”

She looked at me, her gaze filled with worry. “How’d you get it?”

I shook my head, whispering softly, “I don’t want to talk about my scars right now, but I promise I’ll answer your questions later.”

Swallowing, her eyebrows pulled together tighter, two lines between them. “Are you okay? Do you—do you hurt anywhere?”

“If I said yes”—I brought the hand I’d captured to my chest, placed her palm flat over my heart, and grinned—“would you kiss it and make it better?”

She huffed a laugh and I was pleased to see the worry ease from her brow. I took another mental note. I needed to make her laugh. I needed to distract her and keep her smiling.

Pulling her hand from mine, she gave me a soft smack and set her hands on her hips. “Where should I kiss first?” she asked, her bravado forced, anxiety seeping into the question.

Since she was so close, I settled my hands on her shoulders, hooking a thumb into her bra strap. “Take this off for me.”

Back to biting her lip again and giving me round eyes, she swallowed thickly. “Okay.”

Chin dropping, she reached and struggled for a moment to unclasp the bra. I could’ve done it for her, likely made faster work of it, but she liked tasks. Instructions. Taking action.

Ava’s shoulders bunched as the clasp released, her hands coming to her chest to hold the fabric in place, and peeked at me. Her cheeks were pink and she breathed another laugh, this one sounded nervous.

“Sorry—I’m sorry.”

Placing my hands on her shoulders again, I bent forward and kissed her lips gently, hoping to infuse the action with all the patience and tenderness I felt for her.

“Ava. You can say sorry if you need to say it, it doesn’t bother me, but I don’t need it. There’s nothing to be sorry about. No matter what you do, or don’t do, or decide today, or tomorrow, about this, or about us. Always know, if you need me to stop, or if you’re feeling overwhelmed, let me know. We will stop, okay?”

“Okay.” She nodded, her eyes lowered, and she sucked in a deep breath through her nose. Then I felt her stiffen. “But then will we still—what if I can’t?”

“Whenever you’re ready. I’ve already pinky promised. It doesn’t need to be today, this week, or this year.”

She breathed out, visibly relaxing. “Okay.” Still nodding, she pulled her arms through the straps of her bra and quickly flung it away. “I’ve never been this naked with anyone! Sorry if I’m being weird,” she blurted.

I leaned back to look at her face—DON’T LOOK DOWN, LOOK AT HER FACE!—and her eyes were screwed shut.

Smiling because she was so effortlessly cute, I pulled her forward and hugged her. Automatically, her arms dropped from where they concealed her chest and wrapped around me.

“You are weird. But I like it.” I kissed her head. “Be weird, if it feels right.”

Her arms squeezed me tighter, and she said on an exhale, “Thank you.”

I thought we might hug for a moment. My body wanted to take over, too excited at the feel of her bare skin. I tried to clear my mind.

But Ava surprised me by suddenly pushing me away, stepping back, hooking her thumbs into her underwear, and shoving them off.

Then, with boldness and determination, she lifted her arms, striking a pose, and declared, “There! There. I’m naked! It’s over. It’s done. I did it!”

I was so surprised, I forgot to keep my eyes on her face. They strayed and—oh fuck—the sight of her body felt like a blow. My hands twitched with wanting—needing—to touch her. My breath caught. And the desire, the anticipation I’d been working to keep locked up, rushed to the surface.

I wanted to⁠—

Doooon’t! Don’t touch her.

But—

NO.

BUT!

NOOOOO!

Without thinking, I clamped a hand over my eyes and turned away. “Wait, wait. I need a minute.”

I attempted to count my breaths, reaching seven before she spoke.

“What’s wrong? Did I do something⁠—?”

Blindly, my hand still over my eyes, I stepped further into the room. “No. You’re too beautiful. I need a minute.”

Making it to ten, I restarted, willing my body to relax. Calm. Down.

But then she asked, her voice full of some emotion, “I’m too beautiful?”

“Yes. Give me a minute. Just—I’m overwhelmed.” Realizing I was standing there with my hand over my eyes like an idiot, I dropped it. Fuck. I was messing this up. I needed⁠—

She laughed.

Again without thinking, I glanced over my shoulder—a mistake, because I was overwhelmed all over again—and I watched her, mesmerized, as she laughed, her palms pressed to her pink cheeks.

Happy eyes snagging mine, she said, “Am I too beautiful, Des?”

I nodded, not able to speak.

Ava’s hands dropped while one shoulder came up and she tilted her head toward it. “Aww.”

I faced her, now scowling. “Stop. Don’t do that. Now you’re too cute.”

“Aww!” She waved me off, turning left and right, like, Aww, shucks.

Taking a step forward, I lifted an accusing finger between us. “I mean it. Stop.”

“Desssss!” she squealed, reaching for my body, laughing, so fucking gorgeous I couldn’t breathe.

“Seriously.” Grabbing her by the shoulders, I turned us and marched her back to the bed, making her sit. “Just. Sit there. Try to look ugly for a minute so I don’t embarrass myself. Maybe talk about the Cubs’ losing streak this year.”

Now she laughed harder, bending at the waist as she doubled over. Her laughter caused her to shine like a fucking star, making everything worse. And it didn’t help that her face was at the level of my dick.

But even as worked up as I felt, I realized that she was now totally relaxed. It was like she’d said earlier, in the kitchen. She didn’t like to be at a disadvantage. She didn’t like to be the unknowledgeable one in the room. I took another note.

She needed to feel like I was also at a loss in some way. Which, honestly, I was. I was nervous. Her beauty did overwhelm me. I struggled to keep my baser instincts in check, needing to make this good for her. But I also wanted Ava. Very badly.

Sitting on the bed next to her, I first grabbed my jeans and pulled two condoms out of the front pocket, setting them on the bed just behind me. Then I reached for her hand and waited. Eventually, she wiped her tears of hilarity away and faced me, smiling like a sunbeam.

“Come here.” I tugged on her hand. “Straddle my lap.”

“Are we—like this?” she asked, her round eyes bouncing between my dick and my face.

“No. Not like this.” I didn’t let my smile get too big. “Not for the first time. But, pro tip, the wider you spread your legs and the more you roll your hips, the better everything will feel. We won’t fu—uh, do it like this for a while though. This position is for later.”

Her eyes seemed to expand even more, which I hadn’t thought possible.

Fighting a grin at the lethal combination of her cuteness and beauty, I tugged on her hand again. “Come here.”

She hesitated but then complied, standing then straddling my lap. Her thighs flexed and she held the center of her body away from the center of mine. I placed a gentle touch on her waist, helping her balance.

“I’m going to put the condom on now,” I said, holding her eyes. “But that doesn’t mean we’re going to have sex anytime soon, okay?”

“Right. Because sexually transmitted diseases can be transferred even without penetration.” She nodded firmly, tone serious.

I grinned, tearing the foil open with my teeth while she spoke, then rolled it on. “That’s right. I don’t have any. But it doesn’t matter, you should never, never let a dick touch you—anywhere—without it being wrapped.”

When I’d finished, I looked at her.

She’d lifted a single eyebrow and her expression had flattened. “I know that. I’m not a kid. And I have a sister. I want a sexual education from you, not sex ed.”

“Good.” I fought another smile for some reason, but then cleared my throat and wiped my features. We were talking like we always did, bickering and discussing. But now I wanted something else from her. Something new.

Holding her gaze until her expression also sobered, I placed one hand on her waist and the other lightly on her neck, encouraging her to scoot forward.

“Is it okay if I touch you there? Do you want me to?” My voice emerged gravelly, likely because the woman I’d always dreamed about was currently on my lap, breasts in my face, body open and above mine.

But I would control myself. I would make this good for her.

Glancing down between us and then back up to her lovely face, I slid my hand from her neck into her long hair, massaging the back of her head. “We don’t have to.”

She nodded, her hands coming to my shoulders, her legs relaxing a little. “Go ahead.”

My hand on her waist slowly slid higher, giving her a chance to react, moving to the front of her body. I cupped her breast gently and then waited. Her lashes fluttered, eyes on me as I weighed it, then stroked the center with my thumb. A tight, sudden breath slipped past her lips. Her legs flexed, then relaxed further, her body easing lower.

I knew I should kiss her neck, use my mouth to make her hot, but I couldn’t stop staring at her. Her little reactions, how dazed she looked, the high color on her cheeks.

“I can’t stop looking at you,” I confessed without thinking. “You are so fucking beautiful.”

Ava seemed to like my praise. Her bottom finally settled on my thighs and her eyes moved between mine, examining me, as though searching for sincerity.

Apparently she found what she wanted because her tongue darted out to lick her lips and she whispered, “You’re beautiful too.”

I felt one of my eyebrows inch higher, my hand near her neck caressed down the length of her torso to her stomach. Greedy for her reaction, I used the back of my fingers to play with the soft hair above her exposed clit. Her eyelashes fluttered again, her fingers flexing on my shoulders.

“Des . . .”

My cock jumped, pulsed with the sound of my name on her lips, said like that, and pressed insistently against the inside of her thigh. She didn’t seem to notice. I started moving the backs of my fingers in a slow circle, inching lower, closer to the part of her revealed by her open legs.

“Do you touch yourself?” I asked, unable to stop the question. This was just one of many questions I had for Ava, but it felt like the most pressing in the moment. I suddenly needed to know.

Over the last ten years, and even before, I’d wanted to ask her so many things. I wanted to know absolutely everything about her, what she loved, what she hated and why, what she wanted, what made her happy, and what brought her joy. I hoped she’d give me time to ask them all.

She nodded, a little whimper escaping as her eyes fluttered shut, like she could no longer keep them open. Her blush deepened. So, so beautiful.

Turning my hand, I used my middle finger to lightly trace the outline of her opening and she panted, swaying, easing, moving forward another inch, her hips rocking back, instinctively seeking more of my fingers where her body knew she wanted them. She was wet. Good.

“God. Please. Des.” She whined, her hands flexing and relaxing, then flexing again, making me fight a smile.

I leaned forward, suddenly needing to taste her. Using a knuckle to circle her clit, I licked the warm spot where her neck met her shoulder, lightly sucking it into my mouth, massaging her there with my lips and tongue until her body bowed reflexively.

Sliding my nose to her ear, I whispered, “Does this feel good?”

Another whimper, her hands moving restlessly, seeking, eventually twisting around my neck, her naked torso swaying toward mine. She felt impatient. Good.

Burying my head in her neck again, I reached for one of her hands, untangling her arm and bringing it between our bodies. She leaned a little away, her eyes opening a sliver, looking at me, then following the progress of our joined hands. I brought her fingers to my cock, encouraged her to cup her hand and touch me, just as I gave her clit several slow, barely there strokes. Her eyes widened, but then her lashes drooped, and she moaned.

“You’re—you’re so hard, and⁠—”

“And?” I wanted her to say it. I’d reward her if she did. Who was I kidding, I’d reward her even if she didn’t.

“Hot.” Her eyes closed again, her hips moving restlessly, pivoting as I stroked her.

“And?”

“Big!”

I grinned. Yeah. I was petty and vain and I liked hearing her say that.

Increasing the pressure of my fingers but not the speed, I pet her until she moaned, until her legs started to shake and her breathing hitched. Then I slid my hand forward to her entrance and dipped inside.

“Oh. God.” Her head whipped back, exposing her neck, eyes still closed.

I don’t know if she realized it, but she was still touching me, her fingers wrapped around my cock, grabbing me with no finesse. It didn’t matter. Just the sight of Ava’s hand on me was plenty.

“I can’t believe I get to touch you like this.” Another instinctive confession. Sliding my middle finger deeper inside, I groaned at the feel of her, then pumped slowly, using my thumb to continue the circling strokes she seemed to like.

My eyes dropped to her chest and my mouth watered. She had fucking absolutely out-of-this-world breasts. I’d need to spend some very serious time with them. Very serious. But she wasn’t used to being touched there, and I doubted she was ready for what I had in mind. So I tortured myself by merely looking. And wanting.

“You can, if you want.” The words were spoken on a pant and my stare lifted to hers. Eyes bright but dazed, cheeks rosy, she arched her back and lifted up, bringing her tits closer to my mouth.

Holding her eyes until it was impossible, I leaned the two inches forward necessary to kiss the side of her breast. But I was too hungry for her to go slow. My hand not currently employed found the center of her shoulder blades and pressed her forward so I could devour the soft fullness of her tits. I licked, sucked, and bit, hoping she’d let me lick her pussy next.

But no. Not today. Not yet. Oral wasn’t something every woman wanted or felt comfortable with. That would be a topic to explore on another day.

Or later today?

Shoving away my greedier impulses, I listened for her sounds, trying to determine what she liked about what I was doing. What she wanted more. What she wanted less. I focused on signs that would be present when she was close to losing control and I adjusted my tempo to match, slowing, more pressure. I tried two fingers. She shuddered, her head falling to my shoulder and then whipping back again, her body beginning to bounce. She whined.

Almost.

I felt the first tremors, increased slickness between her legs. Her breathing erratic, her body rocking and moving clumsily, without thought, her nails digging into my back and shoulders like she was trying to hold on.

“Oh. Oh God.” The words were a hoarse whisper and clearly she wasn’t listening to herself or thinking. She was only feeling. And then everything tensed except the center of her body, which throbbed around my fingers, gripping and releasing with her orgasm.

I leaned away so I could see her, see what she looked like when she came, and again I was overwhelmed by Ava. Her mouth was open in a silent scream, eyes closed, her eyebrows drawn together, her chest and neck and cheeks pink. She released hitching, gasping breaths, bearing down on my hand while I still moved, wanting to draw out this moment of bliss for her because the chances of her orgasming later weren’t high, not for her first time. I wanted her to know I could make her feel good. I wanted her certain.

Eventually, her body went lax, her cheek coming to my shoulder, her breathing labored. “Oh my God. Des.” She sounded surprised and pleased and sluggish.

Now. Now was the time.

Picking her up, I turned, placed her gently in the center of the bed, and climbed over her body.

“Ava?”

Her eyes opening but not focusing, Ava’s hands at my waist pulled me closer. I lifted my head to study her. She looked lost but relaxed, her lips parted.

“Are you good? Are you with me?”

She nodded, her eyes searching for mine even though I was right in front of her. I held myself back, slightly up and away, one of my hands coming to her hip. I was ready. So very ready. But I wasn’t moving an inch until she focused on me and responded out loud.

“Ava—”

“Des. That was—you are—” Her hands slid up my body but then stopped and reversed course, one coming to my ass and the other wrapping around my dick. As suddenly as she’d touched me, she released me. She blinked. She focused. Finally. “Are—are we . . . ?”

“You tell me.” She was too beautiful. I gave her a kiss, I couldn’t help myself. And my tongue wanted inside her body. Somewhere. Anywhere.

I kissed her until she needed air, then moved to her neck, asking, “Do you want to?” I kissed her cheek, her neck, whispering in her ear, “Or I could go down on you? Make you come again. I want to taste you, here”—I brought the hand at her hip to her pussy, cupped her in case she was too sensitive for my fingers—“I think you’ll like it.”

I’d told myself not to bring up oral, but then what had I done? I’d brought up oral. However, in my defense: Ava. Ava’s body. Ava’s pussy. Ava coming. Watching Ava come. Ava’s body. Ava. I couldn’t help myself. I had no choice.

I felt her shake her head and when I leaned back again, her eyes were wide and looked determined. “No. No, I want you.” She reached for me again, her fingers more tentative than before, but bold nevertheless. “What do I need to do? How—how⁠—”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. Now.” She nodded vehemently. “Please.”

Something about the way she’d said please made my hips shift forward, wanting to obey. Now. I clenched my jaw, willing myself to back off. I needed to do this slowly, take her slowly. Slowly.

I nodded because I couldn’t speak and moved my legs so that hers would be spread wider. Pliant, she complied, letting me adjust her body as I liked. Holding steady, I positioned myself and pushed forward, watching her face, examining every move she made, every small or subtle shift in her gaze, looking for the first sign of pain or discomfort.

Her breath hitched, her forehead wrinkling, her eyes moving between mine.

“Tell me if⁠—”

“Do it,” she said. “I trust you. I want you. Do it.”

Well. Okay then.

I pushed inside. She gasped, her eyes closing. But instead of tensing like I thought she would, she breathed out slowly and nodded, whispering again, “I trust you.”

Heart swelling with an emotion I didn’t understand, I retreated, then pushed deeper, the hot, perfect feeling of Ava indescribable. By degrees, I repeated the process until her body let me all the way inside.

Ava’s eyes remained closed, she continued her careful inhales and exhales, her features and form relaxed, peaceful, but not necessarily participating.

Still watching her, I rolled my hips, knowing she’d feel every stroke, and it should feel good, assuming she wasn’t too distracted by discomfort. My efforts were rewarded when her eyes opened and her breathing changed from careful to careless.

She moaned, looking confused and saying, “That doesn’t feel bad.”

“You feel incredible,” I growled, my voice not under my control, a thoughtless response to her understatement of the century.

Her eyes opened wider and searched my face. “Do I?” She sounded pleased.

Moving inside her, my climax building faster than I’d intended, I swallowed, wanting to say something brilliant and perfect for the moment.

Instead, I said, “Fuck, Ava. You feel—fuck . . .” Great orator, I was not. Don’t care. Feels too good.

My eyes closed, my face tight with mindless concentration, I wasn’t going to last much longer. My brain switched over to that place without reason or thought, only need.

I felt Ava touch me, her hands smooth down my body, caress me, pet me. This did not help me regain control.

“Des,” she whispered, her hot breath next to my ear. “You are so sexy right now.” She moved her hips, trying to match my tempo.

“Fuuuck!” My back bowed and I told myself to slow down. I wasn’t going too fast, my strokes weren’t too hard. But they almost were. And this was her first time. Do not—do not⁠—

But then I was coming. My eyes opened and I saw stars and Ava. She wasn’t coming, but it didn’t matter. It was too late. Her gorgeous body, the buildup and anticipation of today. I’d already gotten myself off once last night and twice this morning before seeing her. I thought I’d been prepared to last for hours. Nope.

When it passed, I was left gasping for air but careful to keep from giving her all my weight. Yet I wanted her body close. I wanted us to be unreasonably close. I shifted to the side and rolled on my back, taking her with me, my arms a vice around her, my hands grasping, touching her, cupping her breasts, massaging her softness, my mouth hungry for hers.

I kissed her and she kissed me back, her fingers in my hair, then on my shoulders. “Des⁠—”

“Are you okay?” I asked between kisses, unwilling to separate our lips for more than a few seconds at a time.

“I’m great,” she said, kissing me back, but I realized she was also trying to talk.

Breathing out, I brought the base of one palm to my forehead, pressing my head down so I couldn’t chase her lips. “Sorry—sorry,” I said, certain I’d been smothering her. Give her a fucking second to breathe!

All at once I became aware of her body shaking and my eyes flew open because I thought she might be crying and—Jesus Christ, I swear to God—if she was crying, I would never⁠—

“Des!” Her hands on my cheeks, she pressed a smiling kiss to my lips. “You are so cute after you orgasm.” Ava pinched my cheeks, her grin huge. “You are so sexy during, but, oh my God, you are so adorable after! I thought you were cute when you smiled, but your smile has nothing on this!”

I blinked several times, just to be sure I’d heard her correctly and I saw her clearly. She hadn’t been crying. She’d been laughing. Happy. Eyes on mine, her expression that of wonder and joy—thank fuck—she released my cheeks and pushed her fingers into my hair, scratching my scalp lightly with her nails. It felt amazing. She was amazing.

I could only look up at her. I’m sure my expression was also filled with wonder. I’d been right. Being with Ava like this had been nothing like my fantasies.

She had been so much better.